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Io look once more into each other's face:
A FACT LITERALLY RENDERED.
I stoon beside the grave of him who blazed
With not the less of sorrow and of awe Wore an unearthly aspect, as by fits
On that neglected turf and quiet stone, The flashes fell upon them; some lay down With name no clearer than the names unknown, And hid their eyes and wept; and some did rest Which lay unread around it; and I ask'd Their chins upon their clenched hands, and smiled, The Gardener of that ground, why it might be And others hurried to and fro, and fed
That for this plant strangers his memory task'd Their funeral piles with fuel, and look'd up Through the thick deaths of half a century; With mad disquietude on the dull sky,
And thus he answer'-"Well, I do not know The pall of a past world; and then again
Why frequent travellers turn to pilgrimsso;
And is this all? I thought,- and do we rip
The veil of Immortality ? and crave
Whose minglings might confuse a Newton's thought
As 'twere the twilight of a former Sun, Of famine fed upon all entrails--men
Thus spoke he,--I believe the man of whom Died, and their bones were tombless as their flesh; You wot, who lies in this selected tomb, The meagre by the meagre were devour'd,
Was a most famous writer in his day, Even dogs assail'd their masters, all save one, And therefore travellers step from out their way And he was faithful to a corse, and kept
|To pay him honor,--and myself whate'er The birds and beasts and famish'd men at bay, Your honor pleases,”-then most pleased I shook Till hunger clung them, or the drooping dead From out my pocket's avaricious nook Lured their lank jaws; himself sought out no food, Some certain coins of silver, which as 'twere But with a piteous and perpetual moan,
Perforce I gave this man, though I could spare And a quick desolate cry, licking the hand
So much but inconveniently ;--- Ye smile, Which answer'd not with a caress-he died. I see ye, ye profane ones! all the while, The crowd was famish’d by degrees; but two Because my homely phrase the truth would tell. Of an enormous city did survive,
You are the fools, not I-for I did dwell And they were enemies; they met beside
With a deep thought, and with a soften'd eye, The dying embers of an altar-place
On that Old Sexton's natural homily,
The Glory and the Nothing of a Name.
TITIAN! to whose immortal eyes
The sufferings of mortality, Seasonless, herbless, treeless, manless, lifeless
Seen in their sad reality, A lump of death-a chaos of hard clay.
Were not as things that gods despise ; The rivers, lakes, and ocean all stood still.
What was thy pity's recompense ? And nothing stirr'd within their silent depths ;
A silent suffering, and intense ; Ships sailorless lay rotting on the sea,
The rock, the vulture, and the chain, And their masts fell down piecemeal; as they dropp'd| All that the proud can feel of pain, They slept on the abyss without a surge
The agony they do not show, The waves were dead; the tides were in their grave, The suffocating sense of wo, The moon, their mistress, had expired before;
Which speaks but in its loneliness, The winds were wither'd in the stagnant air,
And then is jealous lest the sky And the clouds perish'd; Darkness had no need
Should have a listener, nor will sigh Of aid from them-She was the universe.
Until its voice is echoless.
Let bigots rear a gloomy fane, Titian! to thee the strife was given
Let superstition hail the pile,
Let priests, to spread their sable reign,
With tales of mystic rites beguile.
Shall man confine his Maker's sway
To Gothic domes of mouldering stone ? Which for its pleasure doth create
Thy temple is the face of day; The things it may annihilate,
Earth, ocean, heaven, thy boundless throne. Refused thee even the boon to die: The wretched gift eternity
Shall man condemn his race to hell
Unless they bend in pompous form;
Must perish in the mingling storm ?
Shall each pretend to reach the skies,
Yet doom his brother to expire, And in thy Silence was his Sentence,
Whose soul a different hope supplies,
Or doctrines less severe inspire ?
Shall these, by creeds they can't expound,
Prepare a fancied bliss or wo?
Shall reptiles, grovelling on the ground, Thy Godlike crime was to be kind,
Their great Creator's purpose know?
The sum of human wretchedness,
Shall those, who live for self alone,
Whose years float on in daily crimeStill in thy patient energy,
Shall they by Faith for guilt atone,
And live beyond the bounds of Time ?
Thy laws in Nature's works appear ;-
I own myself corrupt and weak,
Yet will I pray, for thou wilt hear!
Thou, who canst guide the wandering star And Man in portions can foresee
Through trackless realms of ether's space His own funereal destiny ;
Who calmost the elemental war, His wretchedness, and his resistance,
Whose hand from pole to pole I trace:And his sad unallied existence: To which his Spirit may oppose
Thou, who in wisdom placed me here, Itself—an equal to all woes,
Who, when thou wilt, can take me hence, And a firm will, and a deep sense,
Ah! whilst I tread this earthly sphere,
Extend to me thy wide defence.
To Thee, my God, to Thee I call !
Whatever weal or wo betide,
In thy protection I confide.
Sonne3.o composto in nome di un genitoro, a cui era morta poco innana ana Sonnet compowed in the name of a father whose daughter had recently died figlia. a zpena maritata ; e diretto al genitore della sacra sposa.
shortly after her marriage; and addressed to the father of her who had
lately taken the veil. Di due vaghe donzelle, oneste, accorte OF two fair virgins, modest, though admired, Lieti miseri padri il ciel ne feo,
Heaven made us happy; and now, wretched sires, Il ciel, che degne di più nobil sorte
Heaven for a nobler doom their worth desires,
Mine, while the torch of Hymen newly fired
Becomes extinguish'd, soon-too soon-expires :
But thine, within the closing grate retired,
Eternal captive, to her God aspires.
But thou at least from out the jealous door,
Which shuts between your never-meeting eyes,
May'st hear her sweet and pious voice once more: Io verso un fiume d'amarissim'onda,
I to the marble where my daughter lies,